


Willing Captive

by FujinoLover



Series: Bang Bang [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Light BDSM, Nipple Clamps, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Cold War, Spreader Bars, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3228347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FujinoLover/pseuds/FujinoLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the food came the partner to burn off all those excessive calories. Being locked up in the subway station turned out to be not as boring as Shaw had initially thought. (Harold’s chair and desk begged to differ, though.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing Captive

 

A notable breeze inadvertently jolted Root out from her meditation (if being held stationary as she did at the moment could be considered as such). The subway’s underground location did not afford natural exchange of air. The disturbance thus shredded through her composure. Contrasting sensations of pleasure and pain she had learned to adapt—to _ignore_ —shot to the forefront of her mind. She worried at her lip, biting back the moan that threatened to further break her self-control. It took her long seconds to get through the clouding dizziness.

 

Unfortunately, she made a mistake by squirming on her seat. The metal chain bonding her wrists together clanked against the back of the chair, the noise echoed too loud for the otherwise quiet subway. The silk tie wrapped around her eyes—Harold’s—left her visually blind of her surroundings. The clamps had numbed her nipples minutes ago. In contrast, the vibration inside her was nothing but teasing her. It lightly scratched her into constant state of arousal, yet not enough to get off from. She was completely, utterly on Shaw’s mercy.

 

She refocused on the senses she had left at her disposal with great effort. There was a subtle shift in the air. Her bare skin tingled and the fine hair on her arms rose in alert. Someone was there. Someone was watching her. _Shaw_.

 

It had been minutes—hours, even, since the last time the weight of Shaw’s presence stood out against the empty space. The ‘exercise’, if not making the reward more satisfying, had surely sharpened her senses. Still, she failed to detect Shaw’s movement until it was too late and her seat was twirled around.

 

The cushion between her legs dipped under the pressure of Shaw’s boot and Root tilted her head up, grinning at the general direction of where Shaw should have been—perched on the edge of Harold’s desk and looking down at her with intense dark eyes. The spreader bar had forced her legs apart by the ankle, splaying her open like a virgin sacrifice placed upon an altar. A very willing sacrifice, indeed. She had been a good girl. Cooperative and patient, despite her first foray in playing the submissive role. It was time for her to get her reward.

 

Root leaned forward, innuendo heavy on the tip of her tongue. Her nostrils flared as they caught on Shaw’s very subtle scent—fresh like the first snowfall—topped off with another she recognized but did not approve of. There was a whiff of incense and tobacco; a unique mixture belonged to the small grocery store owner beside the express delivery above.

 

“Shaw,” Root called out. Her condition momentarily ignored as she became increasingly upset. “You promised—“

 

“Relax.” Shaw’s breath caressed Root’s flushed cheek. It was oddly cold and smelt of mint. “I wore my hoodie.”

 

Root huffed, brows knitted ever so slightly. Shaw smirked at the indignant look. Without forewarning, she unclamped the metal contraption entrapping the tip of Root’s left breast. Root sucked on a sharp breath, her back unconsciously arched forward. The sting of freedom speared her chest as blood circulated again. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears when Shaw repeated the same to the right one.

 

“Th-this is fun,” Root stuttered through gritted teeth. Her nipples were throbbing, but so did her sex. She grinded down onto her seat and tried to relieve herself from the almost unbearable tension nestling in her lower stomach. It was to no avail. “Now if you can help with another bind I—“ She gasped aloud.

 

Something really cold was pressing against her nipple, soothing the soreness on the area. She sighed then scrunched her brows when certain smell assaulted her nose. Whatever Shaw was using to tease her had a distinct scent of mint, very cold, solid yet melted in alarming pace. _Popsicle_. She smiled over the small triumph of recognition. It was, however, short-lived.

 

“Sameen...” Her voice wavered. Droplets of defrosted Popsicle trickled down the swell of her breast to the plane of her stomach, leaving sticky sweet trails on their wake. Her nipple was frozen, painfully so. “Stop teasing,” she growled.

 

Shaw chuckled, her breath suddenly very close to Root’s skin. Before she knew it, Shaw had wrapped her lips around the sensitive peak and sucked until her cheeks hollowed out. Root cried out, the high pitched noise rang through the subway. It slipped her attention as her own heartbeats rushed in her one good ear.

 

When Root pushed through the haziness, she was shoved into another one immediately. Shaw was thumbing her unattended nipple roughly. While she had stopped suckling somewhere between _oh_ and _yes_ , her mouth never left. It was wet and borderline scorching hot and her tongue, _God_ , her wicked tongue! Root shuddered as the aforementioned organ lapped circles around her nipple and teeth scrapped lightly on her areola.

 

“Please...” Root sobbed. “Sameen, _please_!”

 

She heard a low sound of splat to her left and felt Shaw’s lips forming a grin on her skin. Shaw had chosen her over finishing off the Popsicle, a rarity on its own. Root would have been so proud if not for Shaw pulling away. Her disappointment and excitement grew as the bullet vibrator was being tugged out in an excruciatingly slow pace. Every tissue in her vaginal passage clenched in protest, trying their best to keep it inside since her parted thighs could not do anything to prevent its movement. She hissed when that sleek device finally slid out beyond her reach.

 

Shaw made a noise, something akin to a hum of appreciation. Root’s rather exposed position ensured her to catch the smell of sex— _hers_ —filling their immediate surroundings. She would have felt a little embarrassed with herself if she was not heavily preoccupied with what Shaw was going to do with her next.

 

To her surprise, the scent became stronger somehow. She tipped her head to the side, as if asking _really?_ , when the love egg tapped her bottom lip. She was not a big fan of consuming her own bodily fluid, but she would love to put up a good show for Shaw. Slowly, deliberately, she licked the toy, tasting herself coating its smooth silicone surface as she sneaked her way to the fingers that were holding it. Shaw groaned deep in her throat and Root smirked, sweeping her tongue broadly over Shaw’s forefinger. Then abruptly, the game was over.

 

There was light shuffling and for a worrying second, Root almost thought Shaw was leaving her to be found by Harold or John on the next day. It was something the old Shaw would do. But this— _this_ was _not_ the CIA safe house where Shaw took her revenge and be very cruel by leaving her high but not dry at all. They had passed that stage of their mating dance long ago. Thus she slouched back on the chair—her shoulders, legs, and wrists were screaming against their binds—and waited. She waited, waited, and waited some more.

 

The bullet was vibrating again, then. It started a journey from her navel, passed the patch of neatly trimmed hair, then snuck between swollen folds and stayed there. Root let out a strangled cry at the first touch on her clit. Her body taut and hips instinctively buckled up. She was slick with want and need. Every time she bucked up, trying to rock against the vibrator as she yearned for firmer pressure, the sly device would slip off.

 

Root imagined Shaw staring at her in amusement. She was certainly enjoying it, as she did nothing to help her. Eventually, Root managed to tame down the impulse and obtain a semblance of self control, stilling her body whilst biting her lip as sweat and tears of frustration wetted Harold’s tie. It was only then that Shaw took pity on her. The vibrator began to stroke her bundle of nerves in practiced ease, circling and giving the much needed attention. All she had to do was stayed as still as she could, which was a hard work in the given situation. However, it was not her only concern.

 

Shaw was close. Root could feel the heat her body produced, but she stubbornly kept the distance between them. To be denied contact was almost offensive in such situation. On a spur of moment, Root craned her neck then successfully bit on the uncovered expanse of skin where Shaw’s shoulder met her neck. The corner of her mouth caught on the neckline of Shaw’s blouse, the fabric felt coarse against her lips but she continued on, anchoring herself on Shaw.

 

Skin ripped, blood bubbled on the surface as teeth sank on protesting muscle, until Shaw relented and splayed one hand over her hipbone. It was the connection she sought for. The splotches of white creeping on the edge of her vision burst into an assortment of color as she took a freefall over the edge. She grunted something that might be Shaw’s name and might be a cuss when she came crashing onto the unforgiving earth.

 

But Shaw did not stop there. The toy was tossed somewhere. She shoved Root back and then she was knuckles-deep inside her, hitting that sweet spot that always sent her head spinning. Thumb flicked on her clit. One mouth engulfed her breast. One hand cupped the other. Root’s mind was trapped in a whirlwind of multiple stimulations; it could not pick one to concentrate on.

 

Every nerve ending was on fire, sparks cracked here and there. By the tip of her curled toe, on the small of her back, behind her deaf ear. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. She was simply overwhelmed. The second orgasm hit her faster and harder and left her gasping for breath as she slumped on the chair.

 

Moments later—Root did not count how long—the makeshift blindfold was tugged off and she whined as low light hit her eyes. She blinked, adjusting her sight, and came face to face with Shaw, whose smug smirk did not last long. Somewhere around her first climax, Root had worked on loosening the handcuff. It was now hanging on her right wrist as she wrapped her aching arms around Shaw’s shoulders.

 

“It’s my turn now, sweetie,” Root said, smiling a little too innocently. Shaw would look so good while bending over Harold’s desk with the spreader bar keeping her legs apart.

 


End file.
